What You Lost
by wyldheart
Summary: She was running away, and he wasn't doing anything to stop her. G/S
1. Chapter 1

Summary: She was running away, and he wasn't doing anything to stop her. 

Pairing: G/S 

Archive: Absolutely, if you want it- just check with me first, please. 

Spoilers: Small reference to Burden of Proof and general for season three 

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS, Anthony Zuiker, and various other people that I am not. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own enjoyment. The lyrics used at the beginning of the story are from "Dreams", by Fleetwood Mac… surprisingly enough, I do not own them, either!

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at an actual CSI fic, so I'm pretty nervous. Any feedback you have, whether it be praise or constructive criticism, is appreciated. I may not be the best at this yet, but I'm going to keep trying until I get it right, and your comments will help so much. Also, the ending of this story leaves the door wide open for a second chapter/sequel. As of right now, I'm not planning to continue it- I love the ending as it is.

~*~ 

What You Lost

"It's only me  
Who wants to wrap around your dreams and...  
Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?  
Dreams of loneliness...  
Like a heartbeat...drives you mad...  
In the stillness of remembering what you had...  
And what you lost  
What you had...  
And what you lost"

The weather that day was warm and sunny and bitterly ironic. Rich yellow sunlight flooded the land, reflecting off of windowpanes and making the palm trees that lined the roads glitter like green jewels. The sky was cloudless and a deep, intense blue you could get lost in. 

She was running away, and he wasn't doing anything to stop her. 

Waves of heat, like a swinging curtain, rose off the runway. The noses of airplanes cut through it as they rocketed down the concrete, their wheels eventually lifting off the ground. She watched them pass from the huge glass window, marked and smeared with fingerprints. Two duffel bags, hastily packed, lay at her feet. She would send for everything else later, when she had somewhere to put it all. The lady on the intercom was preaching about the dangers of leaving luggage unattended as businessmen sat, their laptops balanced precariously on their laps, glancing at their watches. Others, dressed casually, watched them sadly, knowing their vacations were ending and their own computers and cell phones would soon be in full use once again. 

Sara glanced behind her at 30-second intervals, and her neck was beginning to protest each time she did so. She scanned the crowds of people, rushing this way and that, dragging suitcases behind them. There were pairs and pairs of eyes, but none of them the ice blue she was looking for. She often thought she heard his voice, calling her name urgently, but it was just a memory, a prayer, an echo in her mind. It was a Sunday, and the traffic on and around the strip was always heavy. He was probably stuck in the middle of it somewhere, nervously glancing at his watch and the unmoving line of cars in front of him. She hadn't told him what time her flight was. Maybe he was standing in the airport right now, quickly scanning the list of departures, praying he wasn't too late. 

Or maybe he was sitting at home in his townhouse, wondering where he had gone wrong. 

~*~

She sat clutching both armrests, staring out the window, waiting for something… anything… to happen. Something could be wrong with the engine and the plane would be unable to take off. The pilot might become ill and the flight would be delayed. He could come bursting down the aisle, pulling her to her feet and making her forget that he had ever hurt her. 

Her stomach dropped as she felt the plane begin to move backwards slowly. She resisted the urge to unbuckle, to scream and run to the doorway, begging to be let out. She couldn't go. She was making the biggest mistake of her life. How could she truly leave this place behind when her heart and soul seemed to be trapped here, unwilling to follow her body? Could hundreds of miles really erase him from her mind, keep her from dreaming of him? 

The plane rattled down the runway, gaining speed until it lifted from the ground, giving Sara the momentary sensation that she was lighter than air. She watched the city below shrink more and more until the lines of cars that scurried up and down the roads were the size of the toy cars her brother used to play with. Then they shrank to the size of ants, barely able to be separated from their surroundings. Finally, the plane broke into the clouds and a grayish haze obstructed her view of the ground. The city faded away, melting into the emptiness of hills and desert. 

The back of her eyelids burned and she felt as if someone had stuffed a large wad of cotton in her throat, making it almost impossible to breathe. The woman sitting beside her glanced over in concern, but Sara shut her eyes to block her pitying gaze. 

There was no going back. 

~*~ 

The smiling flight attendant handed her a glass of water, and Sara eagerly took a sip, the liquid soothing her burning throat. Her hand trembled slightly, making the top of the water quiver. She put the glass down on the tray table, then clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to get them to remain still. The lady beside her watched this out of the corner of her eye, still looking curious and sympathetic. She was reading with the light above her on, cutting through the dimness- Sara had flipped the shade on the window down. She didn't want to see where they were going and what she was leaving behind. 

She glanced at the cover of the book the woman had been immersed in for so long. It featured a man and a woman in a passionate embrace; the wind whipping what little clothing they were wearing. The woman had impossibly long, flowing hair, and the man had a chest even those carving from stone couldn't chisel as well. 

"It would be nice, wouldn't it?" The lady asked her, glancing at the cover, then down the worn gold band on her fourth finger. 

"It's not worth the trouble." Sara responded. 

"They don't all end badly, you know." 

"But they all end." 

~*~ 

The plane hit turbulence, matching Sara's thoughts. The fasten seatbelt sign illuminated and the cabin was filled with soft clicks as the passengers obeyed the command. 

The in-flight magazine lay on her lap, open to the map showing the various destinations of the airline. Navy blue arcs made paths from city to city, and she lightly traced the one she was currently traveling with her finger. The distance between the cities wasn't that far, really. 

She was making a mistake. What was she thinking? 

He hadn't tried to stop her. 

She wouldn't regret leaving once she got there. There were dozens of labs in the country that would be glad to have her. The lab in San Francisco would probably welcome her back with open arms. And with her education and expertise, there were plenty of other options, other jobs, open to her. She couldn't waste them over him. 

She had a mind of her own and wasn't willing to spend the rest of her life in an awkward, strained environment, pining for a man who was too afraid to act on his feelings. Sara Sidle would not spend any more time dreaming about him and trying to win him over, his cryptic comments the only thing that kept her going. He had waited too long for her, and she couldn't hold on for him any longer. She had begun to feel trapped and hopeless- the confines of the lab had become more of a prison than a home. 

The thought of never hearing her name on his lips again, never seeing his boyish excitement as he conducted an experiment, made her heart feel like it had been shattered into a million pieces. She didn't want any new opportunities; she didn't want to start over, yet again, somewhere else. She just wanted him. He had stolen her heart from her, and she had let him take it. 

She had to get away. She was losing her life, herself, to a man she couldn't have. 

The plane continued to shake back and forth as it closed in on its destination. 

~*~

Sara walked out of the automatic doors, a suitcase in each hand, looking for a taxi. She hadn't told her friends or former co-workers she was coming. To say it out loud would have seemed so final. She shivered as a gust of wind tried to push her back into the airport, back to where she had come from. 

The weather in San Francisco was chilly and wet and bitterly ironic. 

~*~

Sunlight poured through the cracks of the tightly shut blinds in the townhouse, but the rooms were dark, gloomy, and heavy. A man unaccustomed to crying sat with droplets of water still visible on his shirt and gleaming on his cheeks. His red, bleary eyes were focused on the plant that stood proudly in front of him. Despite all that had transpired between him and the woman he had given the plant to, it stood tall and proud, green and healthy. 

Unwilling to give up. 

She had placed it on his desk as he had signed her resignation. He looked up, startled and confused- why was she giving him this? Then he had seen the card still inside the pot; water damaged but still readable, simply saying "From Grissom." 

She had returned the plant that had kept them together. It had contained all of the things he felt but didn't have the courage to say himself, and she was leaving it behind. Sara snapped off one of the leaves on the plant, then turned and walked away without a word, without a goodbye. 

He'd lost her. 

He'd dated several women in the past, ones he truly loved mixed with the occasional one night stand. After a while, they'd all tell him to either commit to something permanent or they would leave. He'd watched each of them depart, feel like he was drowning in loneliness and self-hatred, but knowing it was for the best. He moved on without regret. 

He had watched Sara leave like all the others, but she had taken part of him with her. She had taken his illusion of happiness. She left him with his feelings, unclouded by fear and sharper than ever, with loneliness that was suffocating him. All that mattered was Sara. 

He stared at the plant in front of him. It stared back. 

It contained all of the things he felt but couldn't say. He needed her, like he had needed no one else before. 

He picked up his phone and dialed quickly, his fingers trembling slightly on the buttons. 

"Hello? I'd like to book a ticket for your next flight to San Francisco. I need to leave as soon as possible." 

The sun was sinking and the sky was ablaze in swirls of orange and pink. 

The weather was warm and breezy and full of promise. 


	2. Chapter 2

See chapter one for spoilers, pairing, and disclaimers.

Author's Note: Before I begin on my list of excuses, I want to give my infinite thanks to everyone who took the time to review chapter one back in August. Your encouragement means more than you would know.

Originally, I hadn't planned to continue this story, but then I decided that this one wasn't finished yet- there was something more for me to say. Unfortunately, that led to the difficult task of deciding how to say it. Then real life got in the way, one thing led to another…and here I am, three and a half months later. I apologize for the wait, but better late than never, I suppose. I won't keep you waiting anymore- here's chapter two!

~*~

Las Vegas had never felt like a home. It is a massive source of light and color in the middle of the desert, banishing the darkness but not the emptiness and all but obliterating the stars. It lures its visitors with hope and promises, and something about the intense sunlight and sweeping desert breezes give the feeling that anything is possible, that your destiny is hiding around the corner, waiting for you. The city is no stranger to tears of bitterness and sadness, and it is not afraid to ring every ounce of hope and optimism out of you and hand you a postcard in return. Every day, it watches as people come and go, dragging with them suitcases of overpriced souvenirs, memories, and the realization that just because you wanted it didn't mean it was. It is a dream wrapped in harsh reality, an illusive happiness that is always two steps ahead of those who chase it.

San Francisco, on the other hand, is completely different. It is what it is and doesn't try to glorify that with neon lights. Buildings nestled in green and gray hills, the smell and taste of ocean in the air, the sense of coziness, despite its size…it should have felt welcoming. 

But Sara Sidle felt completely isolated among the throngs of people that walked with a sense of purpose and reassurance that she had lost. She felt as if she was in a bizarre dream, the one where you walk down the street, invisible. You scream, you wave your arms around, and still, no one is aware of your existence. Her seventh-floor hotel room could have been the 700th floor, nestled among the clouds, for all she knew. 

She stared out the window, watching water roll down the glass panes in fat droplets, and felt like she was watching the scene from a memory or in a movie. Every ounce of anger, of determination, that had carried her here had washed off with the rain; it seemed, leaving her skin raw and her soul lifeless, an empty shell going through the motions of life, consumed by what could have been. Who knew what the future could have held, had she stayed in Las Vegas? But the moment she had boarded that flight, she had lost any chance of ever feeling Gil Grissom's kiss, his love, his touch.

 Still, she had done the right thing.

The clouds cried themselves dry, giving way to a sliver of moon and faint stars, which eventually dimmed and the sun rose, spreading fresh, soft beams of light through the window. Various CNN anchormen told of the victories and horrors of the world, and Sara watched it all happen from her position on the bed, propped up against the headboard, shivering underneath a tangle of blankets, regrets, and questions.

~*~

Her cell phone's insistent ring sounded from where it lay on the nightstand. Desperate for a connection to the human world, her motions automatic, Sara disentangled herself from the blankets and reached out to answer the phone. "Hello?" She asked, tiredly.

Her greeting was met with silence on the other end. Straining her ears, she could hear quiet staccato breathing, but no words followed. She didn't need this. "Hello?" She asked again, loudly and impatiently.

"Sara." His voice broke through, urgent and nervous. Her own breathing turned erratic as she crashed into the brick wall between them, the one they had constructed together. Stars rained down on her as she realized he was closer than ever, and she was moving farther away.

"Grissom." She replied coolly, wondering if the tremble in her voice was as painfully obvious as she feared it was.

"Sara. Sara… I need to talk to you."

 "If you had something to say to me, Grissom, you should have done it before I left Vegas. I gave you plenty of opportunity, but I'm here now. It's… it's over, Grissom. I'm not coming back." Finishing her speech, she exhaled loudly, shutting her eyes. She had made the right decision.

"Sara…"

Her name on his lips, pleadingly. Desperately.

 "Please. Please. There are so many things I should have told you…"

"Grissom."

"No. I'm here, Sara. I'm in San Francisco. My plane landed an hour ago."

She could feel her resolve begin to crumble, along with the brick wall that loomed before them. They had built it hastily, poorly. "You're here? Wha…why… Grissom…?"

"Yes, I'm here. Please Sara… just let me talk to you."

"All right."

~*~

Sara stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands over her flat stomach, which was covered by a blue tee shirt. With a sigh of disgust, she pulled it over her head, exposing white flesh overrun with goose bumps. Her old, comfortable jeans followed suit, and she began digging through her suitcase. Glancing at a black skirt before hastily tossing it aside, she pulled out a pair of black pants and a red tank top. Pulling them on, she went back to the mirror and reevaluated the woman staring back at her. Furrowing her brow, she made a move to reach for the discarded jeans, but instead of putting them on, she shoved them back in her duffel bag, along with the other clothes that were strewn on the floor.

Damn him.

She headed to the bathroom and brushed her still-damp curls away from her face. Studying her reflection, she reached for a bottle of concealer- the skin underneath her eyes was begging for sleep, if not the rest of her body. With shaking fingers, she tried to apply it and her efforts were rewarded with a crooked, ugly streak of makeup underneath her eye. Rubbing it off, she tried again, with similar results. In frustration, she replaced the cap and tossed the tube back in her makeup bag- the stuff didn't really work, anyway.

Taking deep, steadying breaths that didn't calm her at all, she grabbed her purse from the bed and reached for her cell phone. She stared at the screen, the buttons, numbers faded from three years of use. Her features set, she closed her eyes and began to dial his number, memorized but rarely used. Four digits in, she sighed and tossed the phone in her purse.

Damn him.

The door shut with a click she could feel in the pit of her stomach, and she headed down the hall to the elevators.

~*~

She knew this place. 

Sara had only eaten here once, but what a meal it had been. She could still picture the stout, dark wooden tables, white candles cradled in glass holders, the sense that there was no one else in the world… 

She had assured him a coffeehouse would be more than okay, but he had insisted upon taking her someplace nicer. They had sat at a table hidden in the corner for hours, talking about everything under the sun- his experiences in forensics and her aspirations, followed by everything from literature to movies, music, and politics. Being around Gil Grissom was unlike any experience she'd ever had- all her life, she'd been moving forward while everyone else had been moving backwards, running where they had been walking. Connections with other human beings had been stiff and only on the most basic level, but not with this man. She had known him for only a day, and she somehow felt certain that he had discovered some hidden part of her no one had chosen to find. It was an explosive fusion of hearts, minds, and souls, and though she had rarely trusted her feelings then, she never questioned the attraction she felt for him.

Going to that seminar had been one of the best ideas of her life, second only to accepting his invitation to dinner.

~*~

Sara stepped into the restaurant and pulled her sunglasses off, blinking rapidly to let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the place. She spotted him instantly, sitting in the corner…the same table as the first time…He was staring at something no one else could see, drumming his fingers on the table. The anguish, fear, and regret radiated off of him. Feeling the resolve crumbling a little more, she walked toward the table. He saw her coming and stood up instantly. She pulled out the chair across from him and lowered herself into it as he took his seat again. Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes, no longer layered with impenetrable ice, but pleading, hurting.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked down, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Hello, Sara."

His voice sounded hoarse. She nodded and absorbed her surroundings. 

"Interesting choice of restaurant."

"It seemed… appropriate."

"How so?" 

He chose not to answer, instead flagging the waiter, and they both ordered drinks and food though neither of them were hungry. Just like the first time.

The waiter took their menus and bustled off to the next table, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. Everything that had happened between them since they sat here last was floating in front of them, the images sharp and painful, the years of feeling, crushing...

"Sara…" she straightened, watching him intently and feeling as if every part of her was on fire. "We need to talk. About this." Was there any other word for it?  "I've… I've made so many mistakes. This isn't easy for me. I've never been good at expressing what I feel," he grinned self-depreciatingly, folded his hands to keep them from drumming them on the table again, and continued. "I'm going to do the best I can."

"That's all I want."

"The lab does need you, Sara. Cavallo has been picking everyone's brains relentlessly, trying to figure out what made you leave. They haven't even started looking for a replacement, because they know there isn't one. Everyone misses you."

"Grissom, please, please, don't tell me you came all the way here to tell me this."

He met her gaze again, silently begging her to be patient. "The lab needs you, Sara, but not as much as I need you. I need you."

She tried to respond but her breath caught in her throat, a choked squeak the only sound that came from it. She was melting in her seat, underneath his gaze, because of his words…the words she had been so desperate to hear.

He gently grabbed her hands and they melted too, molding themselves to his sweaty, shaking palms. He looked into her eyes, inside of her to the part only he could see, and she knew that every word he said came from the deepest, hidden part of him.

"I've made so many mistakes, Sara. I was scared. Of everything- the professional consequences we could face, of losing myself to someone who might someday run away, leaving me with nothing."

"I would never…" But she had, she realized. She had left him.

He saw her hesitation instantly, intuitively. "No, you were right to leave. And after you did, I realized that I had already lost myself to you, that life without you… it meant nothing. That the only thing keeping me from you were my own fears… I love you, Sara."

Tears rolled down her burning cheeks in steady, cooling streams. She gasped for air. There was too much emotion trapped within her- every feeling, every disappointment, every dream she'd ever had, had risen at his words until she felt ready to burst with joy. He had chased after her, and he had caught her. He loved her, he needed her. 

Through her tears, she met his gaze and realized that she was not the only one crying. Grissom leaned toward her and she toward him, and their lips brushed softly as their tears mingled. The past and the present fused together and all the painful memories, the fear and hesitation, flew away, leaving only their love and this moment.

~*~

The sky was cloudless. Two planes streaked across the endless sea of blue, one taking off, one landing, both traveling in graceful arcs and seemingly headed directly for each other. It gave people staring up at them a chill down their spine and the odd feeling that the planes would collide, though they knew better than that. But they were directly in each other paths, moving forward, without hesitation. A moment passed, and it became apparent that one plane was veering to the left and one to the right, and they would completely miss each other, both acutely aware of the other's presence and completely denying it at the same time, but at least they were safe. They continued to shoot across the sky, and slowly back into each other's paths, making onlookers want to shout an unheard warning up to them, but they were oddly fascinated by the danger, intrigue and inevitability of the situation.

A few moments later, two white arcs cutting across the sky were the only evidence left of the two planes. Two curves, going in changing, uneven paths…and in the middle, they intersect.

            ~*~

It was virtually impossible think clearly, much less logically, with him so close, heat radiating from him where their arms touched. The past few days had been a mix of happiness Sara never thought was possible, of confession and emotion that left her drained, but unbelievably energized.

If Grissom shared her difficulty concentrating on anything logical, there was no evidence that suggested so. He sat with his tray table down and the in-flight magazine open to the crossword puzzle. He was completely absorbed in it, oblivious to everything, even the person in front of him who continually reclined their chair farther and farther back, leaving him less and less room.

Every moment since his arrival had been something out of story, something that existed, but not for her. They had spent long hours in the hotel room, absorbed in each other and their newfound freedom. They had filled their afternoons playing tourists in a city they both knew well. But still, even as he kissed her softly, reverently, as he pulled her down the crowded street, looking as excited as a child, a shadow of doubt would occasionally penetrate the fog of bliss that surrounded her brain.

Those doubts were coming back now. What would happen when this blissful dream ended, when their plane landed in Vegas? How would he react when the first person raised their eyebrows at them because of the obvious age difference, when Catherine, Nick or Warrick found out they were together and shouted congratulations, telling them they knew they were meant for each other all the while? Gil Grissom had spent years trying to avoid and fleeing that type of situation, and Sara couldn't help but wonder if he would be able to face it now. What if it all got to be too much for him and he distanced himself from her once again? Leaving him had been painful enough the first time around, but now she had seen how beautiful a life with him was, and she wasn't sure she would be able to pick herself up and move on if she ever lost him.

Trying to dispel the thoughts, she leaned over and looked at the half-finished crossword puzzle.

All of her fears made a swift retreat when she saw what Grissom had filled in for number 33 across, "a four-letter word for beauty."

~*~

Like people, no two sunsets are the same. Occasionally, you come across one more incredible than you knew could exist, and you sit and absorb the beauty of it all, the image lingering before your eyes long after it fades away. The next night, you are bound to be seen outside, searching in vain for the array of swirls and color you saw yesterday, and you are bound to be disappointed by what you find- something that could never equal the beauty and brilliance you are searching for.

Even in the bitterest person's home, if you look through photographs, through memories, you are bound to find a roll of sunsets, glossy three-by-fives full of clouds and pink. Looking at the photo might give you a sense of what an incredible sight the sunset was, but it is only a glimpse, a whisper of it. A sunset is a moment, an atmosphere, which can not be captured adequately by film or any other medium. It goes beyond a pretty sight; it is a moment in time when two things meet and nothing else matters, a brief second when everything in the world is in the palm of your hands.

And the sunset was brilliant that night. Pools of rich color floated over the city, lighting the gold windows of Mandalay Bay and the black of the Luxor better than any neon lights could. Taxis sped up and down the streets, stopping abruptly, breaks squealing in protest. Tourists in sandals and brightly colored shirts stared up at the sights, hastily snapping photos of their smiling families, of the buildings, capturing the image but not the feeling.

A woman walked slowly up the road, invisible to everyone, painted out of the picture, because she was not what Las Vegas stood for, what it pretended to be. Muttering to herself, her face hidden beneath a curtain of matted brown hair that might have been pretty if cared for; she pushed a cart holding everything she owned up the street. Hunched over, she walked determinedly up the sidewalk. She stopped only when she reached the famous sign at the end of the strip, lights flashing, telling her to drive safely and come back soon. And beneath that sign, she laid her hopes and dreams, then got back onto the sidewalk and continued down the road, never looking back. Maybe she would return tomorrow, and maybe she wouldn't.

Las Vegas is not a home.

It is a city of illusive fortune, faded happiness, and empty promises. It holds the key to eternal bliss and keeps it in plain sight; though very few are lucky enough to reach it.

But how different the city looks for those who grasp the key and unlock the door, for those who are able to see beyond the glare of the neon lights and discover what they truly need.

A man and a woman walk out of the airport and into the parking lot. His arm is draped loosely around her shoulder and she finally knows where home is. In front of them are the truths and the lies, the dreams and the despair, the lights and the sound, the love and the loss, all standing before the unique canvass that is the sunset.

They stand in the middle of it and take it all in.

~*~

THE END


End file.
